Other Worldly
by SassyAngel
Summary: In their first meeting, he rewrote his life for her. JasperAlice.


**Other Worldly**

She danced like her intentions were to level the ground and leave everything burning. He could certainly feel his skin start to breathe flames as she turned to him, a smile on her face as she summoned angels for him, hand cold as his but somehow the contact burned.

"Your hands aren't for killing." She soothed him with her lilting voice that sang promises of endless sunshine, laughter, and happiness. She pried them gently away from his neck, erasing his tears with the fabric of her being, her broken umbrella drooped over both of them. It was more of a prop than an actual entity to protect them from the rain, though the tattered duck printed umbrella was what made him laugh. It was ridiculous to think that his savior would wield a useless piece of trash emblazoned with colorful ducks instead of a sword or shield, but there she was, a scarf stained with only tears wrapped around her delicate neck as she helped him to his feet.

"Let me show you."

The pavement was slick with rain, the clouds curtains over the brightness of the sky, her face uplifted as if she could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. Her whole body arched forward, as if she was weightless, unburdened, stretching for the heavens as if she believed with ever particle of diamond skin that was where she was destined to be. He trembled by just being next to her. It was like desecrating a sacred temple, his foul red eyes betraying just what he needed to survive. He was slick with regrets, ache, and the depression that killed lesser men. Death was what he had dealt for so long it only seemed fitting that soon he would crave the wears he handed out so carelessly, selfishly. His maker's cold hands were tight on his shoulders as her ghost whispered sins in his ear.

'Leave her. What does she know? What can she offer?' Maria was the only life he'd ever known, the only death he had wanted. And yet…

"Hold this. I don't want to trip on it or choke myself." She laughed, her scarf a mismatch of oranges, yellows, golds, and greens. Everything good about life seemed to be stitched into the worn fabric, and it felt too frail in his hands. She couldn't choke. Angels weren't able to die, only fall. Being the sinner he was, he held onto it anyway, greedily, as if her pure essence would somehow be tangible on her favorite piece of clothing.

There, right in the middle of the side walk in the dripping rain, she pressed her fingertips together above her head, breath stilling, taking his with her. No music accompanied her except for the patter of the rain drops, though it was natural, right. Music would have taken away from her shining spirit, would have dulled the echo of a heartbeat he felt in his chest, would have bled the colors from the scarf he tried not to break in his hands.

"Five minutes," she had told him in the alleyway as he slumped stashed between trash cans, future and purpose hidden from him, "if you don't want to live in five minutes, I won't stop you." What was the harm? What could a little girl, even if she claimed she was nineteen, do to harm or help him? Five minutes. It was a simple enough gift to give when eternity was shoved down one's throat.

She danced barefoot, beautiful and terrible in her grace, inhuman yet so startlingly other worldly that it didn't matter where she was from only that she was with him in this moment, the smile on her face so heart felt and true that it felt like a crime to watch her. Yet it was impossible to beg her to stop. If her movements stilled, if her laugher and the rain stopped, he would be lost. In those five minutes, no for all of his life, he was transfixed, chained to her. Her dark hair clinging irresistibly to her slender neck, hands tracing ancient symbols for life and love in canvas of the air, her limbs twirling her as if she was a leaf caught in the gentle breeze of the wind, a flower arching to the sun, the moon rising to the stars. Her eyes and smile wove an inescapable net, tracing red strings of fate through his entire being, stitching through his soul and binding him to her. She was the beauty that death had promised him, the need he had been aching to fill all of his life, and the reason he had always been wanting. She was the destruction and the beginning of him.

He had never thought himself inclined to the fancy of poetry or love at first sight, yet her golden eyes told him differently. He rewrote his life for her.

Tears were in his eyes when she stopped, her eyes closed as she smiled knowingly, his heart gripped between her delicate fingers. She stilled, bringing her arms back to her sides, feet becoming firmly planted back into the ground, letting out a long breath. Obviously when an Angel grounded it was a long, trying process. Was she willing to do that for him? The answer was in her eyes.

When she opened her all encasing orbs, suns rising on the beautiful planes of her delicate face, he nearly knelt in reverence. He was unworthy. He must have dropped to his knees by that point, for she stooped down so that they were both eye level, delicate hand held out to him. In it beat the half of his being that he had thought life and death had skinned from him and stolen. Slowly, prayerfully, he accepted her hand and danced with her, her scarf twinned around his neck, the rain and her smile absolving him of his sins.

"I've been looking for you." He murmured into her ear, and she laughed musically.

"What took you so long?"

Author's Notes I do not own luscious Jasper or swanky Alice, and am only using them for my own amusement. Please forgive the kinda whacked out style of writing. I was trying something different when I was half-awake and just needed to write. Hoped this entertained enough for anyone to review. Rock on Stephenie Meyer!


End file.
